Me: Do you want me to order one of these photos of you for your mom and dad's present?

Primo: I don't know.

Me: Well, you need to decide. It would be much easier for you to carry it with you [when he visits them next weekend - I will be at home watching Season 2 of The Big C and eating Fritos - guess which one of us will enjoy our weekend more?] on the plane then to mail it later.

Primo: I don't know. You mean one of the photos Tommy and Sandy took?

When we had our photos done last spring so I could give my mom a photo of us to get her off my back. Any time she visits, she waits until she has packed her car and is ready to pull out of the driveway to ask to take a photo of Primo and me together.

I love my mother, but I abhor the photo-taking experience as she defines it. It was torture throughout my childhood and it is torture know. She takes forever trying to pose me and I NEVER LOOK GOOD. NEVER! Plus, when she wants to take the photo of Primo and me just before she leaves, it's first thing in the morning before either of us has bathed or dressed nicely. She never asks when we are all dressed up to go to dinner.

I told Primo I wanted to have a professional photographer take a photo of us, send it to my mom, and tell her we were done - that that was the last photo of me she would get. I am not enduring any more of my mom's photography.

BTW, it is not just I who feels this way. A few years ago, my brother, sister, and I were at my mom's for Christmas. We told her that her Christmas present from us was that she could take photos of us. We all grinned and bore it. I HATE HAVING MY PHOTO TAKEN.

Me: Yes.

Primo: But I like the one the campaign guy took better.

Me: Fine. Then let's get that one.

Primo: I don't have a high-resolution version of the file.

Me: So ask the photographer if you can have a better image.

Primo: Do you really think I'm going to try to track him down?

Me: Fine. Then how about one of the photos from Tommy and Sandy?

Primo: I don't know. I just don't think my parents would be very excited to get a photo of me.

Me: Are you kidding me?

Primo: What?

Me: Are you really saying that your mom and dad don't think a photo of you would be the best Christmas present ever?

Primo: Yeah. I don't think they'd care that much.

Me: Really.

Primo: Oh. You mean because they gave us a photo of themselves for Christmas?

Friday, December 14, 2012

After I got home from volunteering with the church group at the bratwurst stand during the very loud concert of a band I had never heard of, Primo told me about his meeting with Samantha that afternoon.

They had gone running together - six miles - and then she had changed clothes and cleaned up in our bathroom. "Is that why the mirror had water splashes all over it?" I asked.

Primo nodded. "She felt bad about that."

I wondered to myself why Primo hadn't just gotten a paper towel and the Windex after she left, but then I remembered that he is the man who has put the dirty dishes in the oven to keep them from the cats until I get home.

If I get a job so he can quit his and campaign full time, putting the dirty dishes in the oven will no longer be an option. At least, not for him.

"So how was it?" I asked.

"She thinks that I need to promote the fact that I'm married to someone from the other side rather than hide it."

My jaw dropped. "Oh she does, does she?"

"Yes!" he answered.

"You mean like I've been telling you to do for the past two months? Like that?"

He looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?! I mean I suggested that a long time ago! I suggested you portray our differences as a positive thing rather than trying to hide them! You've been worried about it and I told you that rather than worry - because there is no way to hide the fact that I do not share all your beliefs - that you use it!"

"I don't remember," he mused.

"WHEN MY SISTER AND HER BOYFRIEND WERE HERE, WE HAD A HUGE CONVERSATION ABOUT IT!"

"Oh, yeah. I think I remember that."

I exhaled loudly. "I cannot believe that you'll take advice from Samantha but ignore me when I say the exact same thing!"

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Primo and I went to see a movie about the protests at the capitol. Samantha had suggested that he try to recruit volunteers for his campaign before the movie, but we got caught in traffic and arrived at 6:54, six minutes before the movie was supposed to begin. Primo was all agitated that he was going to miss something, but when I saw the line snaking out of the theater doors, I said that I bet they would wait until everyone was in the theater.

As we waited, we were assaulted with people with clipboards, looking for volunteers for this and that cause. I smiled and shook my head, but with one particularly pushy guy, I finally responded. I held up one of Primo's clipboards and asked, "Do you want to volunteer to help with my husband's campaign?"

That shut him up.

The movie didn't start on time. They waited until everyone was in the theater, then they waited another 20 minutes. Twenty minutes of sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, not even able to get on my smartypants phone because there was no reception inside the building because there is never reception inside a building with T-Mobile, the worst phone company in the world.

Then the speeches started and they were just as boring as you might imagine highly-partisan political speech to be. At the end of the last speech, the director invited us to stay after the movie ended to "dialogue." Then she said the movie would start "momentarily." Primo and I swiveled toward each other and laughed. "So it's going to start and then stop again right away?" he asked.

When the movie was (finally) over, I thought we could leave and I could get home and have something to eat, as the chocolate I had smuggled in for us had not been sufficient. But no. The director stood up, along with some of the cast, so they could take questions.

Primo handed his clipboard to me. "I want to say something," he said.

He was away before I could think to tell him to announce he was running.

When he got to the microphone, he spoke about how the protests had changed his life and now he was running for office. Then he stepped away.

I stood up and yelled, "Say your name! Tell them who you are!"

He looked startled, but didn't do anything.

"That's Primo and he's my husband. I can vouch for him."

The audience laughed.

He stepped back to the mike. "My wife wants me to say my name. I'm Primo and I'm running for the state house in November."

I smiled. My work was done. I got my phone out and tried to get a signal again while the rest of the audience dialogued.

"Let's go stand in the back," Primo suggested when he returned to his seat. "I can talk to people there."

I grabbed a handful of his cards and started giving them to people. "Vote for my husband in November," I said.

A woman came up and hugged Primo. I stuck my hand out and said, "I'm Golddigger, Primo's wife."

Honestly. Hugging another woman's husband in front of her?

The woman had seen me handing out cards. "Are you running for office?" she asked.

"No," I said. "Just him."

"I do training for women who want to run," she said. "You should run."

I bit my lip. "Oh, that's Primo's thing," I said.

"No!" she said. "We need more women in office."

I shook my head as I pressed my lips together. I was pretty sure she would not like what I wanted to say, which was if I ran for office, it would not be as a Polka Dot. So I just smiled again and said, "All I want to do is get him elected. One politician per family is enough."

"Here's my card," she said. "Think about it. There are plenty of dual-politician couples."

I wanted to ask, "And how many of them are on the opposite sides of the aisle?" But I didn't. Blessherheart.

Primo came home early from the capitol. He had planned to stay until late Friday so he could go to the Jackson Browne concert, but then someone who still hadn't collected all his signatures asked for his help. Primo left the capitol, drove back home, and spent the afternoon in a Walgreen's parking lot, asking for signatures.

Keep in mind we had collected all his required signatures - 200 - on May 8. Over three weeks ago.

This guy just decided to run and just started collecting.

One of his volunteers wasn't even collecting in the candidate's district. Which means all the signatures she collected were invalid. Which makes me want to make snarky jokes about the intelligence of the PDs but I won't because I have plenty of bright PD friends.

Snicker.

Primo spend three hours volunteering for this guy, who then grabbed the petitions and drove an hour and a half to the capitol to turn them in to the elections board before the 5:00 deadline.

He was three short.

All that time.

Wasted.

"But I got brownie points with the Party," he said.

"These brownie points better mean they help you soon," I said. "All it seems that you do is help other people who haven't done a darn thing to help you."

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

I was talking to my friend TG, whom I met via my blog. He's a Stripes guy who used to blog about politics, but stopped, saying it was exhausting trying to stay angry all the time.

"Primo isn't going to win," he said. "Although I'm glad he's the one running in my district rather than [the guy in the next district over]. At least Primo isn't dumb. The other guy - I read the stuff he says and writes and I just shake my head."

I have also read the stuff the other guy writes and I have to shake my head as well. Blesshisheart, he's a nice guy, but he jumps to conclusions before he gets all the facts.

I shook my head. "He might win. You never know."

"He won't."

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It's the kind of thing you have to try when you have the chance or you'll always regret it."

You know I have been looking for a job so Primo can quit his job and campaign full time. Much to my surprise, I have actually gotten two interviews. I credit my recent success all to Alison at Ask a Manager. Ignore her advice about cover letters at your peril.

I had one last week and I have one next week. However, the one next week is the day after Primo has to turn in his annual performance appraisal. He hates with the heat of a thousand white suns writing his performance appraisal. I can tell you right now that it will be done in the last hours before it is due, as opposed to half an hour at a time for three or four days well before the deadline, which is how I approach odious tasks.

Primo: Why don't they just offer you a job by email?

Me: That would be nice.

Primo: Because if you got a job right now, I could quit and not have to do my appraisal.

Primo went to a candidate boot camp last weekend. He was gone all day Saturday and Sunday - he had to get up at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday, which was torture for him. This is the second time he's had to get up before (or at) dawn for politics. We'll see how much he really loves it. Does he love it enough to get up early more than twice?

He wasn't happy about spending an entire weekend at this thing, but the Political Wife told him he should go.

I was glad to have a weekend at home with no drama, no fighting, no guilt about my looking for a job or not looking for a job.

The guilt is the main thing. When Primo is at home working, I feel like I should be working, too. That means unless the house is clean, dinner is ready, and I have found a job so Primo can quit his job and concentrate full-time on the campaign, I don't feel like I can sit down with a good book.

But when he's gone - I let the dishes pile up in the sink, I eat a lunch of an apple and peanut butter, I stay away from careerbuilder.com.

The boot camp was a good thing. They told him things I have been telling him but don't count if they come from me. He said,

During lunch at the Candidate Boot Camp, I expressed my strong dislike for a certain politician (who isn't from our state). My classmates provided very useful feedback; they said that I deliver both positive and negative messages very powerfully, so I need to be careful.

Yes my darling. I have been trying to tell you to quit yelling when you get upset about someone else's politics! Or at least stop yelling at me. It's not my fault. I don't care. I don't want to discuss it.

Which led to the second valuable point he learned. "They told us that we shouldn't vent to our spouses," he said. "They said we should try to find someone else to vent to."

Sunday, December 9, 2012

One thing they don't tell you is that when a person runs for office while he still has a full-time, regular, non-politician job is that he becomes very stressed and there is a lot of marital discord. A lot.

Primo came home from his Polka Dots of Springfield County meeting last night with a yard sign for the Polka Dot candidate for governor in the upcoming recall election. He put it up next to the "Recall the Stripes Guy" sign that I finally agreed to letting him put in the yard as his Christmas present.

I don't even want yard signs for the people I like. I certainly don't want them for the people I don't like.

He snuck a sign in the upstairs guest window a few months ago. I saw it as I was pulling into the driveway one day. I said nothing, but removed the sign and hid it at the bottom of the drawer where I had my summer clothes.

When he noticed, he indignantly asked what had happened to it. I informed him that our Christmas agreement did not cover signage in the windows and that I was not trying to make our house the trashiest house on the block.

When I came out of the gym this morning, I saw that he had put a "Polka Dot Guy for Governor" bumper sticker on the car.

Statcounter

About Me

Two weeks before our wedding, my husband's parents called to tell him 1. they weren't coming and 2. he shouldn't marry me. Since then, I have gotten along with them about as well as you might think. PS They died hating me and disinherited my husband. PPS None of this is made up.
And now, Primo is running for state-level public office for the November 2018 election. And - it's not fun. For either of us.